


Filling in the Lines

by musings_and_daydreams



Series: Drawing a Blank [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:18:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musings_and_daydreams/pseuds/musings_and_daydreams
Summary: A continuation of my one shot "Drawing a Blank"It follows the reader's recovery from the aftermath of the battle in New York as she discovers that there's more to her life than just being a simple New Yorker.Character tags will be added as the story progresses.





	1. Chapter One

_“Pero pap_ _á, lo amo-“_

**-click-**

_“-nd here’s our seven day forecast for th-“_

- **click** -

_“the categories are-“_

- **click** -

_“it’s time for… WHEEL OF-“_

**-click-**

The tv mounted to the white walls of the hospital powered down as you turned it off. There was nothing on to watch, nothing for you to do except sit and wait for someone to come visit you in your room. It was week five, day four of what you considered your imprisonment in the recovery wing of the Metropolitan Medical Center and you were still stuck in bed. Needless to say, you were bored out of your mind.

Sure, you had made friends with some of the nurses, but they weren’t always around. Your parents had come to see you during the first few weeks, but now that they saw you were on the road to recovery they had gone from visiting every day to every two days. And your friends popped in every once in a while. But you still felt lonely… and bored. _So bored._

***plink***

              The sound made you turn your head, the fabric of the pillow rustling softly beneath you. Your phone on the side table to your left lit up as it received another text message.

***plink***

 You stretched slightly, trying not to strain your healing stomach and grabbed it, unlocking it with a swipe of your finger.

_**Hey lazy bones.**_

**_-N_ **

**_You busy?_ **

**_-N_ **

              You cracked a smile. Your friend Natalie had been your constant companion, at least once you got a new phone. The last one didn’t agree with a building falling on top of it.

              _Aren’t you supposed to be at work?_

_**Yes…**_

**_But I’m boreeed. And you’re so much fun to bug._ **

You rolled your eyes, fingers typing away your response.

_Work isn’t always supposed to be fun Nat. It’s WORK_

_**Well, technically it’s currently lunch time**_

You looked at the clock on top of the screen and sure enough, it was just past noon.

              _Ugh……_

_that means I have about ten minutes before Nurse Pokes-A-Lot makes her round_

**_What, no Dr. Tall Dark and Handsome?_ **

You can feel your ears flush and your cheeks grow red. A quick look out of the open door to the left confirms your privacy in your room before you even attempt to respond.

              _Wrong part of the hospital Nat._

_Remember? They moved me to recovery._

_He’s an ER doctor._

_**That doesn’t mean he can’t come find you.**_


	2. Chapter Two

A pair of knuckles rapped on the door frame and one of the many monitors connected to you let out an alarmed beep as your heart jumped. As you clutched your phone screen down to your chest, a head popped around the corner of where your room ended and the hallway began. But thankfully the hair on top of that head was not black. No, it was red and straight. “Crust on toast, Nat.” Your head hit your limp pillow as you let out a sigh and your arms fell to your sides. “You just about gave me a heart attack.”

She let out a laugh as she sauntered into your room. “I know,” she pointed to the monitor, “I heard.” The bed dipped as she sat by your thigh.

“I thought you were-“

“Oh I know who you thought I was.” She smirked as she leaned back, a hand resting behind her.

You rolled your eyes at her. “Come on Nat,” you scoffed, “I’ve seen him two, maybe three times? Just because he was there when I woke up in intensive care, doesn’t mean he visits me for any other reason than the fact that he was my doctor.”

A cart rolling up to your door stops your conversation short. Nurse Pokes-A-Lot. Your face is instantly sour.

The older curly haired nurse rolls her stocked cart into the room, prompting Nat to get up from the bed. “Time to check those bandages dear.” She then turned to Natalie as she started to set up the fresh gauze needed for the wrap on your wound. “You might want to step out honey, this can get pretty gruesome.”

Instead of leaving, Nat settles into a chair on the other side of the bed from the nurse. “I think I’ll be okay. I’ve probably seen worse.”

You let out a laugh like scoff as the nurse begins to turn down your covers and pull up your gown to reveal your wrapped stomach. “Like what?”

Something shifts in Nat gaze and then she shrugs. “Like road kill or something. I don’t know.”

”You’re comparing me to road kill? Gee, _thanks_.” Your sentence ends with a grunt as the nurse begins to remove the adhesive keeping the gauze glued to your skin. Apparently Nurse Pokes-A-Lot was also Nurse No Warnings. Man, you should really learn her name at some point.

As the bandage slowly peeled away, your abdomen was revealed. Although you had no memory of what had happened after your office building had fallen, you still had the scars from the events that had followed. The skin was not even near fully healed, some still an angry red and other parts starting to go pink. They had said that you were extremely lucky to have survived at all, normally when people show up out of nowhere in their ER with an extensive puncture wound like you had… they didn’t make it past the operating room door without flat-lining. Somehow your internal organs had managed to abstain from damage while you had a 5 inch hole through your torso. At least by this time the skin the surgeons had put in place was starting to integrate into your body, although it was still something you didn’t want to see. You closed your eyes every time someone came in to change your dressings.

“You’re healing up nicely dear,” the Nurse stated as she lightly probed around your wound. She hit a particularly sore spot and you let out a pained groan. “Oh sorry, sorry, sorry.” She whispered as she re-sterilized your wound and applied a new bandage. Then she let out a huff of air as she prepped the gauze for the next wound. “Okay sweetie, here comes the hard part. I got to turn you over for your back.”   

As the nurse pulled up the bed railings, you braced yourself. Then hand by hand you gripped onto them like a life line, your knuckles white. She slowly helped you upright, pain screaming from your front as she did. It must have showed on your face because even Nat beside you put a hand on yours, a sympathetic grimace on her face. When you finally had flipped over onto your side, you let out a deep breath and closed your eyes. You tried to block out what was happening on your back, but every time you took a deep breath to calm yourself something hurt. But eventually it was over.

“All done dear,” the nurse told you, placing a hand on your shoulder to turn you back over. “On a scale from one to ten, how bad is your pain?”

You took in a breath between your teeth and let it out. “Five? Maybe a six,” you told her truthfully, “It’s not as bad a yesterday though.”

The nurse nodded. “You might want to say good bye to your friend then, before I give you something for the pain.”

You swiveled your head back over to where Nat was sitting. “Thanks for coming to see me on your lunch break. I know it’s hard to get away from an office like Stark Industries.”

Natalie patted your hand. “No problem. I just wanted to come say hi, check up on you.” Then she grinned so wide, her smile reached ear to ear.

“What did you do?” You ask her with suspicion.

She shrugged. “I _may_ have pulled some strings to get you moved to a Stark run hospital. Only few more days here in this miserable place.” Her head snapped up after her comment, turning to the nurse, “No offense.

The nurse just chuckled, “If I could get out of this place I would. No worries honey.” Then the nurse turned to you. “Alright sweetie, let’s take care of that pain.”

You settled back into your pillow as the nurse pushed the medicine into your IV, knowing it would knock you out within the next few minutes. “I guess I’ll be seeing more of you latter Nat,” you smiled at her.

“You sure will,” she responded as she got up to leave, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “Get some sleep.”


	3. Chapter Three

_“…Sigyn…”_

The name floated into your blank mind, so quiet it wasn’t much more than a breath.

_“Sigyn?!?”_

It’s louder this time and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe. And then an iron taste cements itself in your mouth.

_“SIGYN!!”_

 

You wake with a gasp and sit bolt upright in your bed, the monitors around you beeping wildly along with your galloping heart. It’s dark outside your window and your entire torso is throbbing in pain. The condition you’re in only furthers the hold your dream has on you. Your breaths continue to leave your mouth in ever shorter gasps. _No, no, no,_ you think to yourself, _I can’t hyperventilate. Not now._ You close your eyes and bow your head down as your hands pile the covers into balls under your fists. _Calm down,_ you repeat to yourself over and over, _calm down._

And then you feel it.

Two spots of warmth on either side of your face. Two _hands_ that are cradling your cheeks.

“Breathe.”                                                                                                                         

Your chest strains as you wheeze again and again. You dip forward only to be caught by the person as they sit next to you.

“ _Breathe,_ love.” Their voice says again. “Open your eyes and _breathe._ ” The person’s thumbs circle around and around your cheeks, your face, in a calming motion. Then one of their hands releases your face to pry your left hand from the death grip it had on the covers. Your hand reluctantly leaves the cotton of the bed’s covers to only come in contact with another form of fabric.

Your hand is nestled between their own and their chest, the warmth seeping into every inch of your cold skin. You can feel their heartbeat through your sweaty palm. It’s just as fast as yours. But most of all you can feel the slow up and down movement of their chest.

“Come on,” you hear the words as they vibrate through your hand and up your arm. “Breathe with me. Nice and slow.” They take a few exaggeratingly deep, slow breaths. Ensuring that you can feel them. And when your breaths don’t slow they shake your hand, pressing it harder into their chest. ” _Come on.”_

You’re shaky as you finally calm down and the dream releases you from its grip. As you take your first normal breath of the night, you can feel your savior brush your hair away from your face and move it behind your ears. Your hand slips down their chest as they release it. “That’s it, that’s it.” They coo softly, “Now just open your eyes.”

You slowly and reluctantly open your eyes, only to stare straight into emerald green eyes you haven’t seen in weeks.

It’s the doctor who had seemingly been in control of your care during your stay in the intensive care unit. You try to remember his name, but you come up blank. All your brain provides to you is a series of scattered memories from your time in the ICU. A flash of black hair as you’re wheeled into surgery. His pale face, blurry green eyes and all above you as you groggily come out of the anesthesia. You don’t remember much, but he’s there. He’s always there.

“Y-yo-u…” Your voice is croaky. You must have been yelling in your sleep. “Yo-u…” you try again. His worried face lightens up, his eyebrows releasing from their furrow. Your throat feels like sandpaper. “W-water,” you cough out, squeezing your eyes shut at the pain.

“Gods, yes. Sorry.” He jumps up at your request and the weight of him disappears from your bed. Seconds after you hear the _glug-glug_ of the water dispenser in the hallway, there’s a dip in your bed and a cold cup being gently pressed into your free hand. “Here, love.” His voice is gentle. He laughs when you go to down the entire cup, tipping it down slightly with his long fingers. “Easy, love, easy. I don’t want you to choke again.”

When you open your eyes as you finish the cup and go to set in on the bed, he takes it from your hand. As he stands to place it on the tray at the end of your bed, you get your first good look at him. He’s tall and lean, dressed sharply in a dark green button-down and black dress pants. His long black hair slicked back behind his ears. But he wears no white lab coat, which you find strange. You clear your throat before you speak. “Are you here on your night off?”

His brow furrows again. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not wearing your coat.”

“Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up, “No, no, no. I- um, I just…” he points out the door, “I- um, I just finished.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and bows his head as he walks back toward the head of your bed. “I heard you scream.” And in that moment, you swear you can see him shudder. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” When he lifts his head, he gives you a smile that is no more than an upturn of the sides of his lips.

“Oh.” Your comment is quiet in surprise. And when you go to settle back down, you suck in a breath of pain. Your middle section protesting the change in position. As you let it out, he’s suddenly right by your side. His hand reaches out, changing its’ direction when it’s halfway to touching your healing wound and going to hold the side of your face.

“You need more sleep,” he tells you, his thumb running along your cheek.

You can feel that side of your face grow slightly warmer, a safe and comfortable warm. As he lets go and turns to walk away, you can feel your consciousness fade. The last thought on your mind as your eyes drift closed, _I forgot to ask his name._


	4. Chapter Four

When you next wake, the sun is shining into your room from the open window and a nurse sitting in the chair next to your bed with your chart. At least she looks like a nurse to you, dressed in blue scrubs with her blond hair pulled into a high ponytail on her head. She doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake yet, she’s scribbling in your chart that she’s got balanced on her crossed legs.

“Hello?” You grovel out, pressing the button on the side of the bed to raise it. You weren’t going to try sitting up on your own again, your midsection was still sore from the movement last night.

She raises her head and gives you a smile, “Good you’re up.” She stands to greet you, the chart balanced on her hip and a hand extended out to you. “I’m Kate. I’ll be helping you transfer to Mr. Stark’s facility.”

You introduce yourself with a small handshake and a confused look. “That’s happening today?” You had expected it to happen in a couple of months, not the day after Natalie had told you about her ‘pulling some strings’. But apparent what Tony Stark wants, Tony Stark gets. “Which one am I going to?” You ask her, “My friend that set this up neglected to mention.”

“You’ll know soon enough,” Kate tells you, “We’ll be headed out as soon as this hospital can get the transfer papers ready…” She pauses momentarily, gauging your reaction. “Unless you’d like to wait.”

You can feel your cheeks flush slightly, a few thoughts zipping through your mind. First of all, you wanted to be clean before you set foot (or rather wheel) in the outside world again. Second, you wanted to find that ER doctor with the black hair. You ~~needed~~ wanted to tell him thank you for saving your life. “Can you find me an on-shift nurse? And maybe a change of clothes?”

She smiles and nods, hauling up a bag from the floor next to the chair and setting it on your bed. “I was sent with these to make you more comfortable. Choose what you like and we can take the rest with us to keep at the Stark facility.” She pats the bag. “Take your time, I’ll find someone here to help you while I get the paperwork.”

After she leaves, you immediate unzip the duffle bag. The prospect of clean, non-hospital gown clothes was definitely going to be the highlight of your day. The bag was separated in half, shirts and blouses on one side and pants on the other. Everything neatly folded. You eventually choose a light green shirt that’s loose around your middle and a pair of legging-like pants that wouldn’t anger your skin by being too tight.

By the time you re-zipped the bag, a nurse had rolled in with a cart holding anything and everything that would get you as clean as you could be after sitting in a hospital for who knows how long (you had lost track of time a while ago). After a change of the dressing on your wound and a sponge bath, she helped you into the change of clothes you had laid out over the duffle bag. As she started to pack everything up, you decided to be brave. “Do you know who was on-shift last night?”

“Of course,” she answered as she continued to pack up her cart, “Why?”

“I was hoping you knew the name of a black haired doctor.” You on the edge of the bed, awaiting her answer.

“Well, you’ll have to be a lot more specific,” she shrugged, “I know a few. Do you know what wing they work in?” The nurse pushed her cart to the side, bringing in a wheelchair from the hallway.

“I don’t really know,” You told her as she unfolded the wheelchair and placed it next to your bed. “I remember him being with me in the ICU, but I also vaguely remember him in the ER too.” You paused as she helped you lift your arms over her shoulders, getting ready to move you from the bed into the wheelchair. “I saw him last night when he came to check on me.”

“Well,” she started as she began to lift you up, “I hate to tell you, but ER doctors don’t tend to roam the hospital to check on patients that are in recovery.”

Your heart dropped and you almost slipped as she pivoted you into the wheelchair. “Really?”

The nurse knelt, fixing how your legs set onto the base of the wheelchair. “I mean it happens sometimes,” she looked up at you, “but that’s generally when they just want to check on the patient’s stability. I don’t know of one who would still keep an eye on someone who was in recovery.” She shrugged as she stood up. “Sorry.”

You opened your mouth to ask her another question, but then the Stark nurse Kate walked in- folder in hand. “We ready to go?”

The hospital nurse stands a little straighter as Kate’s gaze flicked from you to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Kate walks around the nurse as she leaves, grabbing the duffle bag from the bed. After she slings it around her shoulder and stuffs your folder inside, she comes around behind you and begins to push you out of your room.

Your wheelchair click-clacks its way down the hallway, which gives way to the reception area of the recovery wing and you’re assaulted with sound. All the things you had mutely heard from your room now loud and clear. Nurses on the phone, visitors talking to doctors, people scuttling about their work day. The noise started to quiet down as you entered the second hallway and then the elevator. As the elevator doors thudded shut, the noise cut off completely and all that was left was the beep of the floors numbers as you went down.

As you were wheeled out of the elevator, the noise re-assaults your senses. The ground floor of the hospital hold a variety of things; a reception desk, a gift shop, and of course the ER ward. As you pass the double glass doors that lead to the ER, they slide open and there’s a pain so sharp in your head that you can’t stop the groan like gasp that comes tumbling out of your mouth.

You press a hand to your head, palm flat against your skull and squeeze your eyes shut as if you block everything out, the pain will go away. You can mutely hear Kate call out something that sounds like your name as she stops your wheelchair, but you can’t make out what she says after that.

You open your eyes as you feel someone put a hand on your knee, but there’s no one in front of you. All you can see is a commotion in the ER. It would seem normal, but your vision is slightly white around the sides. There’s someone being rushed into an operating off the side of the main ER room. A tall, lean man in a strange green costume tries to rush in after them, but he’s stopped by a nurse. He puts a hand on her shoulder and the air around them seems to shimmer. Your eyes narrow because you must have been seeing things because now he’s now dressed in the standard doctor’s lab coat. He leaves the nurse, whose face looks a little blank, and rushes through the door to follow the stretcher.

You blink and suddenly Kate is kneeling in front of you, hand on your knee. “You’re bleeding.” She tells, taking a handkerchief from her shirt pocket.

“ _What.”_   You’re confused. What the hell just happened? A tickle under your nose makes you reach up to touch your face. When you bring in back down, the tips your fingers are covered in bright red blood. You drag your eyes back up to Kate’s face, but before you can get any words out- everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say right now, I have very little knowledge of how hospitals work- so bear with me. I'm going to try my best to remain accurate, but- let's be honest, it's fiction. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. They let me know people are actually reading and not just taking a peak only to close the tab.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not a doctor. Most of my medical knowledge is from textbooks/biology classes, google, and Grey's Anatomy. Enjoy!

The next time your consciousness floats to the surface, you don’t even bother to open your eyes. Your head doesn’t quite feel like it’s splitting in half, but the ache isn’t totally gone either. You somehow know the warmth that you feel on your face is the sun, which will just make it worse if you open your eyes. As you try to assess your situation, you take a deep breath and sink into the bed. The bed you’re sitting in now is definitely much better than the one at the public hospital. In fact… _everything_ feels much better. Even the hospital gown (that everyone usually hates). The entire room just feels expensive.

Foot-steps break your thoughts as they enter the room. They sound heavy as they cross the room to your bed, paper rustling in their hands as they walk. They stop at the foot of your bed, the paper flopping onto what sounds like a table. They sigh as they flip through a few more pages, then they close the file. You feel your feet grow cold as they pull the sheet covering your feet up and folds it to lay over your calves. A tickling at the bottom of your feet is what finally makes your open your eyes.

It’s another dark-haired doctor. But this time he’s not wearing green, he’s wearing purple under his crisp white lab coat. And his eyes are concentrated on your feet, where he’s running the back of a pen up and down. It causes your toes to curl a little bit.

“Hey,” you say drowsily to get his attention, “that tickles.”

His brown eyes flick up to meet yours. “It’s supposed to.” He gives you a small smile and then goes back to looking at your feet. “I’m checking your nerves. It’s a good sign that it tickles, it means that everything’s intact.” He slips his pen into his shirt pocket and strides over to the side of your bed. “It’s good to see you awake,” he pulls out a penlight, clicks it on and beings to check the pupil dilation in your eyes, “bleeding from the ears and nose is generally the sign of a brain hemorrhage.”

“A hemorrhage?”

“A bleed in your brain,” he explains, clicking the light back off and sticking it back in his pocket. “But, everything seems fine now. Do you remember if you hit your head at all during the original trauma?”

“I don’t- I don’t know…” you pause, thinking a little bit. “I just remember waking up on my back… in the dark.”

His brow perks up a little, so quick you almost don’t catch it. Almost like he was surprised. Then he clears this throat. “I’d like to check your wound and dressings if that’s okay with you.” You nod and then he pulls the bed sheet down and your gown up. You wince a little when he pulls up the tape and your breath is shaky as he gently prods the areas around the edge of your wound. “You’re healing rather nicely,” he tells you as he replaces the dressing, pulling your gown back down and the sheet back up. “I think we can start on physical therapy maybe within the next couple of months.” He walks back to the table at the end of your bed and flips to the back of your folder, jotting down a couple of notes.

“Doctor…” You drift off, you don’t know his name yet.

“Banner,” he supplies, not taking his eyes off his writing.

“Doctor Banner,” you restart, “How much longer until this is all over?”

He closes your folder and sighs. “Well, it’s hard to say. It depends on how quick your wound heals and well your therapy goes. If all goes well, it’s probably about two or three years before you’ll be back in working condition.”

You give a huff of defeat.

“Hey now,” He picks up your folder and comes to put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re right on track. There’s nothing more we can do at this point.”

You flop your head back into the pillow and look up at him. “Well I ache all over, can I at least get some more morphine?”

He smiles a little at you and squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Doc.” You give him a smile in return as he adjusts your IV drip and then your gaze sets on the cityscape outside the floor to ceiling windows across from your bed as he heads out the door.

He makes his way back to his office, looking over your folder again as he does. Something catches his eye. In the notes section, past the initial report and the notes of your stay in the ICU, it jumps out at him- almost like it’s bolded. No symptoms of PTSD, possible dissociative amnesia, little change/chance of recovery. You weren’t supposed to remember anything about the accident. He quickens his pace and as soon as he reaches his office, he closes the door and he makes sure he’s out of earshot. Doctor Banner whips out his phone and dials the number that he has saved only for emergencies. It rings twice and then he hears a click as it’s answered. He doesn’t even give the person on the other end a chance to speak before his words come rushing out of this mouth. “Director Fury, it’s Banner. We've got a problem.”


	6. Chapter Six

“What do you mean ‘we’ve got a problem’?” Fury’s voice boomed through the conference room as soon as Banner walked through the door. The Director wasn’t sitting like he normally would in a meeting. He was standing with his hand pressed against the table, arms rigid. He’s tense, expecting bad news, and his body shows it.

Banner rushes over at a quick walk, dropping your file onto the black table top and flipping furiously to the note he had seen that morning. “That,” he stops at the page he needs, pointing his finger at the scribbles from the doctor at the Metropolitan Medical Center, “That right there. It’s wrong.”

Fury picks up the folder with one hand, the unsupported side flopping down to be perpendicular to the floor. “Amnesia?” He looks at Banner. “What’s so wrong with amnesia? Isn’t that a good thing for us? It saves us the trouble of explaining how Thor and Loki rescued her and how she’s…” he looks down to the notes to read them “extraordinarily lucky with only ‘moderate to little internal organ damage’, considering she was impaled.”

“That’s the thing,” Banner starts to fidget with anxiety, “This morning she told me she woke up on her back, in the dark, after the building fell. She’s remembering.” Banner paces away and back, “You can’t do that with the type of amnesia they say she has.” He then pulls a transparent film from the folder in Fury’s hands, turning around and holding it up to the window that has the warm glow of the setting sun. “And this is her MRI from when we brought her in, it should show some type of damage to her brain. Or at least an anomaly… but it doesn’t.” Banner pauses, unsure how to make what comes out of his mouth next seem less threating. “She doesn’t have amnesia sir. Someone is making her forget and it’s wearing off.”

“Well then…” Fury crosses his arms, “that does present a problem. Any warning signs of when it gets worse?”

“The hematoma could definitely be a sign,” Bruce turns back the table, putting the MRI scan back in your folder. But Fury stays facing the window. “As for anything else, we’ll just have to keep a close eye on her. Maybe do some tests.”

Fury nods in agreement. “Tell Stark to rig her room with cameras. I want eyes on her 24/7 until we know exactly what’s going on.”

Bruce nods, closing the file and picking it up. “I’ll pass it along.”

Fury turns and Bruce starts to leave. “And tell Miss Romanoff to increase her visits. We need to know what the girl knows.” Banner is almost out the door when Fury yells his last request. “And keep the Asgardians away from her!”

 

* * *

 

Two floors down, you sit in silence and your eyes grow weak as the sun sets. Considering you had been unconscious for most of it, the day had seemed quite short to you. But the day had also seemed quite tiring because you still had yet to get rid of the fatigue that plagued you since the accident. And as the orange and yellows of the last rays of the sun fade to the deep blues and black of night, so does your willpower to keep your eyes open. After a sigh as deep as you can manage you allow yourself to sink into the mattress, turning your head into the pillow.

After a few minutes, you can hear the door creak open, but you don’t give it much notice. It’s probably one of the staff or Dr. Banner doing his night checks. Light footsteps reach your bed and something clicks as its set on the table at the side of your bed. The person then hesitates, almost as if they’re debating with themselves over some matter. Their feet shuffle toward your bed and then back toward the door. Then they sigh, turning around and walking back through the door. The door slides shut slowly and quietly, clicking shut.

You roll your head to the side on which the table sits, eyes peeking open to see a vase of flowers now sitting there.

Daffodils.

Your favorite.


	7. Chapter Seven

The elevator she’s on lets out a soft ‘ding’ as it stops on the floor where the tower turns from gray to white. Natasha sighs as she exits, snatching an apple from the food cart parked next to the elevator as she goes. It’s not like she didn’t want to be here, you had become somewhat of a friend amidst this undercover detail. It also gave her a chance to be normal for once. But this detail was going on six years now. The longer it went on, the harder it was going to be to snap you out if it when the time came.

Jugging the apple from hand to hand, she arrived at your door. It was open and you were sound asleep, with nurse checking your vitals on the machines around you. Natasha scanned the room as she waited for the nurse to finish and a few things caught her eye. The cameras that Stark had installed were sitting tucked in the corners of the room. After contemplating give them the bird, she gave them a small wave, her eyes moving on. And there were flowers on your side table. Her eyes narrowed, those weren’t there last night. But before she could inspect them, the nurse turned around.

“Oh! Hello dear,” the nurse addressed Natasha in a shaky voice, with a hand over her chest, “You gave me quite a fright. I wish you all would stop doing that.” The nurses weren’t in on everything that was going on in the rest of the tower, their security clearance didn’t go that high. But they knew the basics, just enough to treat the injuries that were obtained during missions.

“Who brought in those flowers?”

“Oh they’re lovely aren’t they?”  The nurse strokes one of the petals. “They were here when I started my rounds, must have been dropped off last night.”

“Thanks,” Natasha says bluntly. “You can go now.”

After the nurse has left, Natasha hops up on the end of your and crosses her legs. Then she takes her phone out to text Stark, taking a bite out of the apple as she does so.

                                                                                                                   _I need last night’s tapes. Room 104._

_-N_

She takes another bite as she closes her phone, watching as your head turns and your forehead wrinkles, your eyes fluttering. You’re waking up.

“Nat?” Your voice is deep and gravelly as you bring a hand to wipe your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

She smiles at you. “I thought I’d have breakfast with you.” She waves the apple slightly and takes another bite.

You close squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch your nose, making a displeased face. “Oh, that’s just mean Nat.” You push the buttons on the side of the bed, moving to an upright position. Then you hit the button to call the nurse to let her know you were awake. Not long after, the Stark nurse Kate wheeled in a cart. You gave her a weak smile as you accept the bowl she offered you.

The meal you had been given for the last few weeks wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. It was a bland oatmeal like mix. It was supposed to give you the exact right amount of ingredients to help you as you healed. But it got boring after the first week, the blandness starting to feel like nothing at all.

You caught Kate and Nat eyeing each other as you stirred the bowl. “Oh. Natalie this is Kate. She’s one of the nurses who work for Stark. Kate, this is my friend Natalie.”

Nat stuck out the hand not holding the apple in Kate’s direction.  “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking care of my friend here.”

Kate gave Nat a smile as she shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you as well. Your friend shows great improvement.” She gives you a devious smile. “Lunch might even be solid!”

“Yes!” You exclaim with a bright smile, “I could hug you!”

Kate laughs. “At least that will make up for starting therapy next week.”

Your mood turns solemn. “Therapy?”

“Oh please,” Nat comments, “When was the last time you stood on your own?”

“I know… Doctor Banner mentioned it.” You pick at your bland oatmeal, raising the spoon and letting it drip down back into the bowl. “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

Kate’s mouth dips into a slight frown. “Do you not feel ready?”

You sigh. “It’s not that. I feel even better than yesterday…” You let the spoon fall into the bowl and set it on your legs. “I’m just a little scared.” Both Nat and Kate lay a hand on your leg.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Kate give you a squeeze before gathering the things she brought in with her, “there’s nothing to be afraid of. Dr. Banner will go easy on you.” She heaves a sigh as she turns to leave. “Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Okay?” She turns and throws her last comment over her shoulder. “Nice flowers by the way.”

“Yes,” Nat gives you a quick pat on the leg to regain your attention, “Back to happier things. Like who brought you flowers.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, her mood returning to joking type you had gotten fond of.

You blush. “It’s not like that.” You turn to look at them. “I don’t even know who dropped them off. I thought it might have been a nurse when they came in, so I didn’t even bother turning around.”

Nat’s phone buzzed and her attention was diverted for a moment.

_Here’s the footage._

_\- Tony Stark_

The text contained a thumbnail of the video attached. The flowers were already on the side table in the thumbnail. So the video was useless to her. She turned to you instead. “Do you feel like a trip outside this room?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Questions are encouraged!


End file.
